


Where It All Began

by Spikedluv



Category: 2 Fast 2 Furious (2003), Fast and the Furious (2001), Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Community: smallfandomflsh, First Kiss, M/M, Post-Movie(s), Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-03
Updated: 2011-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 08:46:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilkins brings Brian and Dom back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where It All Began

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place post-2 Fast 2 Furious. Written for the Small Fandoms Flashfic Challenge #21: Trust.
> 
> Written: April 3, 2009

Brian was working beneath a vintage ‘69 Corvair Monza convertible when he heard soles scuffing on concrete as someone entered the garage. He didn’t have any other appointments for the afternoon, and he didn’t usually get walk-ins, so he glanced away from the bolt he was tightening just long enough to catch a glimpse of black dress shoes, then returned his attention to the car.

“Brian O’Connor?” the someone who belonged to the black dress shoes said, and Brian groaned silently when he recognized the voice.

He gave the wrench one final twist, then rolled out from under the car and looked up at the one man he’d hoped to never see again. “Agent Bilkins. What brings you to L.A.?”

Not waiting for an answer, Brian sat up, then pushed himself to his feet. He used the red rag tucked into his back pocket to wipe off the wrench before replacing it the toolbox, then used the same rag to wipe dirt and grease from his hands.

Bilkins looked around the garage. “I could ask you the same thing, O’Connor. Or maybe I don’t need to. Sure didn’t expect to find you back here in L.A. Thought you and that friend of yours were gonna open a garage in Miami?”

Brian shrugged. Rome had been his best friend growing up, and the job they’d done in Miami had brought them back together after years of not speaking, but once the dust cleared, it turned out that they didn’t have that much in common anymore. And though he’d made some good friends in Miami, it never quite managed to feel like home.

So Brian had returned to L.A. and the one place that _had_ felt like home, and tried to convince Mia to sell him the garage. She refused to believe that Dom wasn’t coming home, so she rejected his offer (with a few choice words that still burned his ears when he thought about it), but she was a smart businesswoman, so she allowed Brian to rent the space so it generated a monthly income rather than just standing there vacant.

Brian knew the power of a good, long silence, so he let it build. Bilkins finally broke it. “We need your help.”

Brian didn’t know what they wanted from him, and he didn’t care; he’d earned the right to be left alone, paying dearly for it with the job he’d done for the feds in Miami. “I’m done with that,” he said, and turned away to wash his hands.

Continuing to ignore Bilkins, Brian started the Corvair and backed it out of the garage. He parked it to the side, then brought the keys with him into the office where he had already started a work order. He finished billing out the job, then called the owner to let them know the car was ready to be picked up.

When Brian exited the office, Bilkins was still there, inspecting the undercarriage of a car Brian had up on the lift. Not that Brian had expected him to give up that easily, but he had hoped.

“Nicky Carluccio. Prostitution, drugs, gambling. He promises young girls a new life in the States, and when they get here, he gets them addicted to drugs and turns them into prostitutes. We can’t get anyone inside because he’s too careful, and too damned paranoid.” Bilkins turned his head to look right at Brian. “But he’s taken a real interest in street racing.”

Brian didn’t say anything. He hadn’t raced since coming back to L.A.; too many memories, too much to lose if the cops took it into their heads to chase him down.

Undeterred by Brian’s silence, Bilkins continued, “You’d need a partner to watch your back, of course. That kid we used in Miami, maybe.”

“Rome?” Rome had taken a liking to the Florida sun and the pretty girls and had stayed in Miami working for Tej, still dreaming about opening his own garage one day, but happy to build and race street cars for now. “What’s in it for him? In fact, what’s in it for me?”

This time it was Bilkins who didn’t answer, just stood there staring hard into Brian’s eyes, as if he could convey whatever it was he was thinking to Brian by boring it into him.

Brian laughed as realization hit. “Oh, you’re good. A big time criminal takes an interest in street racing in L.A., and you need someone who’ll catch his attention. You don’t need Rome, you need Dom.”

The corners of Bilkins’ lips twitched, but he just shrugged,held his hands out palms up. “Who you choose to be your partner is up to you, as long as he can race cars.”

“And be good enough to capture this guy’s interest.”

Bilkins shrugged again, which was all the confirmation Brian needed. The humor faded as Brian realized what kind of opportunity Bilkins had dropped into his lap. Still . . . .

“What makes you think I give a shit about Dominic Toretto?”

Bilkins raised his eyebrows and looked around the garage they now stood in. “As if it wasn’t enough that you gave up your badge for the man?”

Brian didn’t want to think too hard on that, or on why he was here in L.A. instead of Miami, so he set himself to getting the best deal he could for Dom. “You _need_ Dom for this,” he repeated, just to make sure they were both on the same page, then laid out his terms, “All charges dropped, immunity from prosecution.”

Bilkins said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Brian shook his head. “No, you’ll do it, or I won’t be involved.”

“We could bypass you and go straight to the sister,” Bilkins said.

Brian laughed at the image of Bilkins getting his ass handed to him by Mia. “If you thought that, you’d have already talked to her, but you already know that Mia’s a tougher nut to crack than I am, right? Immunity,” Brian repeated, adding, “for all of them.”

“Jesus, kid, you think you’re in a position to drive such a hard bargain?”

Brian didn’t even have to think about it because Bilkins had come to him, had practically told him they needed Dom to get this guy Carluccio, so he didn’t hesitate to say, “Yep.”

Bilkins grinned and shook his head. “I told ‘em you wouldn’t go down easy. Deal. Now find out from your girlfriend where Dominic Toretto’s at.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Brian said as he pulled the first bay door closed, already thinking about how good it would be to see Dom again after all these months.

“Still not talking to you, huh?”

“No. Now tell me what the plan is.”

*~*~*

  
Dom glanced up from the engine he was working on as the car pulled up to the garage. It was still shiny where it wasn’t covered with dust, so not a local. When it got closer, Dom saw the rental sticker, and then he recognized Mia in the passenger seat.

The car had barely pulled to a stop when Mia threw the passenger side door open and ran to Dom, calling his name. He hadn’t seen Mia in months, and she was a sight for sore eyes. Dom picked her up and swung her around just like he’d done back when she was 12, and then hugged her close, even as he said, “Mia, what the hell are you doing here?”

“The question is, what the hell is _he_ doing here?” Vince snarled as he came out from under the hood of the car he’d been working on before Mia showed up.

“Nice to see you, too, Vince,” Mia said.

“Hey, Mia,” Vince said, cowed as ever in her presence. "You're looking good."

Dom shook his head, even as he looked over and saw Brian get out from behind the wheel of the rental, his movements slow, cautious, as if approaching a feral dog. Mia put her hand on Dom’s arm, which was a good thing, because he didn’t know if he’d have gone over there and punched Brian, or kissed him.

And Brian was looking right at him, ignoring everyone but Dom.

“I’m wondering the same thing,” Dom said, even as his heart raced at the sight of him, and watched Brian’s chin go up. Dom smiled and shook his head; Brian never did know when to quit. “Mia?”

Just then a large black man stepped out of the backseat of the rental. Dom immediately pegged him as a fed. “Mia?” he repeated, this time with a little more of a growl.

“It’s important, Dom,” Mia said, “I wouldn’t have brought them down here if it wasn’t.”

“I’m Agent Bilkins with the FBI,” the fed introduced himself, and got right to the point, “and I need your help, Toretto.”

Bemused by that statement, Dom smirked, and leaned back against the car he’d been working on. “Is that right? And why should I help you?”

“You give me a few weeks of your time, you can go back to L.A.,” Bilkins said.

“Full immunity, Dom,” Brian said, speaking for the first time.

Dom hated how much he’d missed the sound of that voice.

“You can’t trust him,” Vince said.

Dom glanced over at Vince. Leon and Letty now stood at his side, their faces blank as they waited for Dom to make his decision.

“But you can trust me,” Mia said, glaring at Vince. “I wouldn’t have brought them down here if I didn’t believe that this was a legitimate offer.”

“And you can believe this,” Bilkins said, producing a document and waving it in the air before offering it to Dom.

Dom took the document and spent the next fifteen minutes reading it over, while Mia fidgeted beside him, and Brian and Vince faced off, glaring at each other.

When he was done reviewing it, Dom rolled up the document, which had turned out to be an immunity agreement already signed by the U.S. Attorney, and looked at Brian. “Brian?”

“Damn it, Dominic, you can not trust him! He’s the reason we’re down here in the first place!”

For the first time since Mia and Brian had arrived, Dom allowed some of his own anger to boil over. “Yeah, he is,” Dom said. “We could be rotting in jail, or lying dead on the side of the road, but instead we’re free to do what we love -- fix cars and race -- here in Mexico.”

Vince wasn’t deterred. “He betrayed us, betrayed _you_!”

Dom saw the change come over Brian, how he went from wary but hopeful to flat out angry.

“You want another taste of me, Vince?” Brian said. “You couldn’t even take me last time, and now that you’re a little weak on the right side, I bet you’ll be a piece of cake.”

“Christ,” Dom muttered.

Vince growled out something unintelligible and rushed Brian, who moved forward to meet the attack, but before they could get into it, Dom was between them, pushing them apart.

“Knock it off, you two!”

Letty and Leon dragged Vince back, and Dom planted his hand in the middle of Brian’s chest – heat seeping into his palm with each beat of Brian’s heart -- and backed him out of the garage until they stood a few feet away from the others, giving them a semblance of privacy.

“Talk to me, Bri.”

It took a second for Brian to cool down and stop shooting glares at Vince, but as soon as he did, Brian quickly told Dom what little Bilkins had told him about the job the feds had for him, for them, and confirmed that he and his team, all of them, would receive immunity.

“Everybody?” Dom asked, wanting to hear Brian say it again, even though he’d read it in the agreement he’d dropped to keep Brian and Vince from killing each other.

Brian nodded. “Everyone.”

“Anything happens to us, they still get immunity?”

“Yes.”

“That your doing?”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters.”

“Not to them,” Brian said.

“To me,” Dom said.

Brian ducked his head, then glanced up at Dom through his eyelashes. “Will you do it?”

Dom reached out and grabbed Brian’s wrist, his thumb brushing over the pulse point where he felt the rapid beat of Brian’s heart. “Can I trust you, Brian?”

Brian didn’t waste words reminding Dom that he’d already proven that Dom could trust him by saving Vince’s life and letting Dom go – actions that Dom hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since coming to Mexico -- he just looked him in the eye and said, “Yes, Dom, you can trust me.”

Dom smiled, thinking about returning to L.A., and trying _not_ to think about the fact that Brian was here, once again saving Dom. “Then let’s go do this.”

*~*~*

  
Brian couldn’t keep his eyes off Dom, who looked exactly the same as he had the last time Brian had seen him. He was less banged up, true, and he had more of a tan, but other than that, exactly, wonderfully the same.

It had taken a lot to convince Mia to even talk to Bilkins, and then a signed immunity agreement before she’d take them to Dom, but finally it was a done deal. Dom and Brian were back in L.A. to set up their cover while Mia remained in Mexico where she’d be safe, at Dom’s insistence, and where she was probably even now plotting with Letty and riding Vince hard.

Dom moved back into the bedroom he’d grown up in, and Brian moved into one of the guest rooms, less for the sake of their cover than so they had backup at all times. Dom went to work at the garage, though he did the repairs Brian booked and took no steps to change the way Brian ran things.

Dom only lifted the tarp covering the wrecked Charger that Brian had rescued from the impound lot once -- “I haven’t touched it,” Brian said, “I figured you’d want to do it.” – and then seemingly forgot about it.

They put in an appearance at the first street race after Dom’s return, and Dom made sure that Hector and anyone else who would listen, knew that he was back in L.A. for good, and looking to start racing again. No one asked how he’d managed to get the feds off his back, because no one knew why Dom and his team had left L.A. in the first place – both the local cops and the feds had been too embarrassed over their failed sting (and the fact that their undercover officer had been turned) to make it public knowledge – and if they’d given it any thought at all, probably thought it had been because of Tran and Jesse’s death, and when they asked where he’d been, Dom just said, “Around.”

No one appeared surprised to see the two of them together, either. Hector had just smiled when he saw them at that first street race, clapped Dom on the shoulder and shook his hand, saying, “I figured when pretty boy here came back and opened the garage back up, you wouldn’t be far behind.”

Brian rolled his eyes at being called pretty, and tried to ignore the implication that he and Dom were anything more than, well, what they were (Brian wasn’t sure whether they even qualified as friends), but Dom just gave a noncommital smile and said, “Is that right?”

Dom refused to race anything that he hadn’t had a hand in building, so Bilkins provided them with a beat up Honda Civic – the irony of which was lost on neither of them – that they rebuilt from the wheels up. It took them three weeks of bunged knuckles and test drives and replacing new parts, along with a boatload of cash dropped at The Racer’s Edge for both parts and overnight shipping, before the car was ready. Brian thought that (aside from himself) Harry was the happiest person in L.A. once he heard that Dominic Toretto was returning to the street racing scene in L.A.

When they pulled up to the gathering on the night of Dom’s first race back, Brian was all smiles and jittery excitement. Adrenaline had his heart racing and his palms sweating. It was worse than if he was racing, because this was _Dom_. A lot rode on this race, on getting Carluccio’s attention, but more importantly, it would be the first time Brian saw Dom race since he’d wrecked the Charger (even though he knew that Dom had raced in Mexico), and Brian just wanted so badly for Dom to win.

Dom parked the Civic and they both got out. Hector came over right away, all welcome smiles and handshakes. “Well,” he said, ”if it isn’t the two lovebirds. Glad you boys could make it.”

Brian opened his mouth to tell Hector that he had the wrong idea, but Dom spoke first. Only he didn’t tell Hector that he’d gotten the wrong idea, he said, “You got a problem with that, Hector?”

Hector’s smile froze for a second, and then he laughed, his gaze traveling between them. “No I don’t, my man,” he said, and then he punched Brian in the arm, “You dog.”

“Ow,” Brian said, blushing furiously, his mind racing as he tried to figure out how Hector had guessed how he felt about Dom. He must have given it away -- spending all day working with Dom, and then having to go home with him at night was just too much to expect of any man.

Dom just nodded, then said, “Who’s racing tonight?”

“You better be,” Hector said excitedly, patting the hood of the Civic. “Can I see?”

“Bri.”

“What?”

“Pop the hood.”

Brian popped the hood and Hector peered under it at the engine, whistled his approval. Dom came up behind them, put an arm over each of their shoulders and looked between them. “Nice, huh? The kid here does pretty good work.”

Brian turned his head to glare at Dom, but it was probably dampened by the fact that he was hyper-aware of Dom’s body pressed to his, Dom’s arm along his shoulder. Dom just grinned at him, then stood back, dropping his arm from Hector’s shoulders, but kept his other around Brian’s.

Just then two men appeared out of the crowd, clearing the way for a third man that Brian recognized as Nicky Carluccio. Carluccio approached Dom, held out his hand, and said, “Dominic Toretto, I’m Nicholas Carluccio. It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you, and I just wanted to say how pleased I am that I’ll finally have the opportunity to see you race.”

Dom’s arm tightened – possessively or protectively, Brian couldn’t tell – around Brian’s shoulders, and he smiled the smile Brian recognized as one he gave strangers. “Thank you, Mr. Carluccio,” Dom said, shaking his hand. “ I hope I don’t disappoint.”

“Oh, I’m sure you won’t,” Carluccio said, “and please, call me Nicky.”

“Nicky,” Dom obligingly repeated.

Just then Hector called out that the street had been blocked off for the racers to take their places.

“Enjoy the race,” Dom told Carluccio, then dropped his hand and turned away to lower the hood.

Brian shivered in the sudden coolness when Dom withdrew his arm, and then flushed with heat when Hector ducked over just long enough to say, “Don’t forget to give him a kiss for good luck.”

Instead of getting angry, as Brian half expected, Dom just laughed, then said, “Get out of here, Hector.” He looked at Brian, but Brian couldn’t meet his eyes. “I must’ve been blind,” Dom mused.

“What?”

Instead of repeating himself, Dom said, “You gonna give me that good luck kiss, Bri?”

“What?”

“If I lose,” Dom said, shaking his head, “you’ll never know if you might have been able to change the outcome with just one kiss.”

“ _What_?” Brian said again, thinking that he must be hearing things.

Dom curled his big hand around the back of Brian’s neck and reeled him in. Not that Brian put up much of a fight.

“Kiss me, Brian. For luck,” Dom said, and his voice -- low and even more gravelly than normal – danced along Brian’s spine.

Brian didn’t know if Dom was joking or not, didn’t know if this was the most stupid thing he’d ever done in his life (and that was including falling for his mark and giving up his badge), but Brian leaned in and pressed his lips to Dom’s.

Brian barely heard the wolf whistles and catcalls as Dom opened to him and he sank into the kiss. Dom slid his hand up Brian’s head, tangling his fingers in Brian’s hair, and then he brought his other arm around Brian, slid his hand along Brian’s lower back, and then down to cup his ass. Brian moaned and pushed into Dom, deepening the kiss, emboldened and turned on by the fact that Dom had practically rolled out the red carpet for him.

They didn’t break apart until Hector, laughing, pounded on Brian’s shoulder and said, “Hey, man, get a room. I said a good luck kiss, not a good luck—.”

The rest of the sentence was thankfully drowned out in the laughter of the crowd.

Brian was panting, and he figured his lips were just as wet and swollen as Dom’s. He was hard as a fucking rock, and now he couldn’t get the image of Dom bending him over the hood of the car and fucking him out of his mind.

Dom laughed, as if he could read Brian’s mind, and then he leaned in and whispered, “Later,” in Brian’s ear.

Brian shivered, but even with all his blood rushing south, he remembered that they had a job to do. “Dom, what about the—?”

“Fuck _the_ ,” Dom said, looking fierce, and then he relented, shrugged. “Carluccio’ll probably be happy to have something he thinks he can hold over my head, if he decides he ever wants me to throw a race, or if he wants to get in the ‘sponsoring’ business. Actually,” Dom said, turning thoughtful, “a bug in the right ear might move things along and get us inside more quickly, so we can finish this. But right now.”

Dom dragged Brian back in for a hard, quick kiss, then slid his hand down the back of Brian’s head and neck, over his shoulder and down his chest in one long caress before pulling it back.

“Let’s go win us a race.”

The End


End file.
